myspace poem

in all things not spoken of
i burn no incense
skies they were ashen and sober
since, if you stood by my side today
in an old chamber softly lit
where shall i find you
very well, you liberals
green afternoon serene and bright
eighty years have passed, and more
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
musing, between the sunset and the dark
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
the dawn was apple-green